


looking for the right words to say

by Viktory



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, mentioned nedcan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viktory/pseuds/Viktory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luxembourg takes his not-girlfriend back to sister Belgium's house for the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	looking for the right words to say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paarsetulpen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paarsetulpen/gifts).



> hope you enjoy this, Ancsa! even if it's late ;n;
> 
> (i tried to incorporate nedcan but frankly i suck at writing them. i am so sorry omg)

Luxembourg spends a whole hour at the mirror that morning. In a few hours he’ll be on a flight to Liechtenstein, to bring her to Belgium for the holidays. Getting her brother’s permission had been no easy feat. He’d been forced to sit through a three-hour ordeal which had included, at one point, a highly graphic and somewhat disturbing powerpoint that explained what exactly would happen to his vital regions should Liechtenstein be hurt in any way. Needless to say, he’s particularly high-strung today.

He stares at his pale face in the mirror once more, slicks his hair back again, adjusts his tie for the five thousandth time. Then he walks out the door and drives away.

Switzerland meets him at St. Gallen-Altenrhein Airport and they shake hands awkwardly. Then it’s another car ride to Liechtenstein’s house, and he’s there. Luxembourg takes a deep breath, tries not to think about Switzerland’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, and step by step he goes up to Liechtenstein’s house. He doesn’t understand why his hands are shaking. And he knows it’s not just the looming threat of being castrated for Switzerland that’s making him nervous; it’s the thought of inviting Liechtenstein over. But why? She and him have been good friends for a long time. They have similar interests. They  _understand_  each other. Why is he so anxious now?

He knocks and shifts his weight from foot to foot. Liechtenstein appears in the open door a minute later, smiling angelically—she always smiles like that—and dressed in her Sunday best. She’s holding a bag of what he supposes to be presents.

“Hallo—you look, erm, lovely.” His voice comes out all strange, and he coughs. What’s he supposed to do now? Oh, yes. Luxembourg takes the bag for her, offering her his other arm, and she takes it gracefully. They walk down the steps back to Switzerland’s waiting car, like a couple down the aisle after their marriage.  _Der liebe Gott_ , why did he just think of that? His face flushes. It’s Liechtenstein. She’s his friend. Only his friend. Certainly not a  _date_  or anything.

They try to make small talk on the way back to the airport and during the plane ride itself, but it’s always stilted and awkward and Luxembourg doesn’t know why. He wants to bury his face in his hands.  _Why are his hands shaking?_  He opts for staring outside the window at the bleak white skies. It’s a lovely scene, really. Not quite a white Christmas, but it’s pretty all the same.

After a torturous eternity, they’re finally at Belgium’s house, and it’s Spain who opens the door. He looks ruffled and unkempt and his hair is sticking up all over the place. There’s smeared lipstick over his neck and Luxembourg and Liechtenstein both look away, avoiding the obvious observation. “We weren’t expecting you until later,” Spain explains, a hand running over his hair sheepishly. “But, ehm, come in!”

The house smells like freshly-made marzipan along with the ever present scent of waffles, and Luxembourg feels himself relax a little at the familiar aroma. He places Liechtenstein’s presents under the Christmas tree for her. Belgium appears a while later, her hair freshly combed, Luxembourg sees, and smiles at them warmly. “Liechtenstein, we’re so happy to have you here! You’ve got a nice eye. Broertje is a wonderful man for you if you want my opinion on it.”

“N-no, Miss Belgium, you misunderstand,” Liechtenstein stammers, blushing and swiftly letting go of Luxembourg’s arm. “W-we’re not—”

Luxembourg’s face is even redder. “Verdomme, België, I’ve told you, I invited her on account of us being good friends. I’m not looking for romance.”

“You made a good choice, Lux,” Spain commends him, completely ignoring his previous statement. “I think you’d almost be a better couple than me and Belgium.”

“No, you’ve got that wrong, we’re  _really_  not a couple,” he tries to protest.

Luxembourg likes Spain, really, he’s a good guy and a nice match for his sister, but he’s kind of like that embarrassing over-enthusiastic father at football games who always cheers too loud. He’s feeling a little overwhelmed with both Spain and Belgium fawning over them like proud parents—

“We can finally go on double dates now! I always wanted to do a double date.”

“We can’t do it with broer and Canada, see, because Ned and Spanje can’t stay in a room together for more than five minutes before breaking something.”

“It’ll be much better with you two, anyway, since Luxembourg won’t try to kill me! Haha, right?”

—and judging from Liechtenstein’s blush, she’s feeling the same way.

“Uh, right!” Luxembourg clears his throat hastily, anxious to change the subject before he dies of mortification. “Zus, do you have anything you need help preparing?”

“Yes, I could cook something for you—” Liechtenstein chimes in, but Belgium shoos her off.

“No, no, you’re our guest! Here,” she thrusts a teacup and saucer into Liechtenstein’s hand, “there’s some drinks and cookies at the table. Make her feel at home, won’t you, Lux? Spanje can help me in the kitchen.” Dragging Spain off, she leaves them alone in the room.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Luxembourg inquires after his not-girlfriend is seated at Belgium’s dining table. He feels stiff and gauche asking the question, even though it’s one that he’s asked her plenty of times at their various bratty-rich-people-club meetings along with Monaco. Maybe it’s because what his sister and Spain had said earlier is still on his mind. Maybe it has something to do with the butterflies in his stomach that had started this morning and never stopped since.

“Coffee would be lovely,” Liechtenstein smiles up at him.

Absently, he pours a cup for her and then one for himself. There they sit, in uncomfortable silence, until Belgium’s giggle travels through the air, followed by Spain’s light-hearted laughter.

“Now how about an impression of broer,” Belgium’s saying.

“Alright, alright.” Spain’s voice drops by half an octave and adopts a gruff quality. “My name is Holland and I’m the toughest, meanest guy you’ll ever meet. I smoke weed all day and make my siblings cry. But I spend half the day looking after my bunnies, and one love poem from Canada and I’ll faint.”

Belgium chortles. “Do me next!” She leans on Spain’s chest as she tries to catch her breath.

Spain just smiles, intertwines his fingers with hers. “I will gladly ‘do you,’ señorita. But I thought kitchen sex was more your brother’s thing.”

Luxembourg almost chokes on his coffee.

“That’s got to be the most vulgar pick-up line I’ve ever heard,” mutters Liechtenstein with a scandalized giggle, hiding her mouth behind a biscuit.

“It’s a Latin specialty,” Luxembourg explains with a grin. He thinks it is, anyway.

Spain is showing her a card trick now, easy enough to see he’s hiding it up his sleeves from where Luxembourg is sitting, and obviously Belgium is smart enough to know the trick, but she grins up at him anyway. “Put those down and come ‘ere,” she says, reaching up with one arm to hook it around his neck and bring him down so they are face to face. “You’re so much better at kissing than you are at magic tricks.”

Luxembourg looks away then, because his sister and Spain are undoubtedly cute together, but he has always felt uncomfortable watching them kiss, because—well, he isn’t sure, really. Maybe it’s because she is his  _sister_. Or maybe he just feels like he is intruding somehow, looking in on a situation that he has never experienced himself. Things like that—kissing, hugging, all those other intimate things that couples did—he had never seriously contemplated any of those things. Perhaps growing up, watching his brother and sister fall in love and have their hearts broken time and again, has turned him into a cynical man.

That must be why, when he turns back to look at Liechtenstein, sitting beside him with her back straight and poised like any noblewoman, pale and delicate fingers gripping her tea cup, dressed in her starched collared blouse with the modest wool dress, he blushes. He drops his gaze to his own mug.

He’s not ready to fully confront his own feelings about her yet. Even if Spain and Belgium’s predictions turn out to be true, even if Liechtenstein feels the same way, he doesn’t want to rush things with her. So for now, Luxembourg only places a tentative hand on hers, platonic enough to be considered a simple gesture of friendship. Liechtenstein looks at him with surprise in her eyes, but then she smiles, and gently, she laces her fingers with his.


End file.
